


Twitching

by Shenanigans



Category: DCU
Genre: F/M, Other, Voyeurism, things that are decidedly not happy in the end, wank?, wheelchair babs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 11:36:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shenanigans/pseuds/Shenanigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barbara lets herself watch. [twitching is slang for bird watching]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twitching

The night had taken a left hand turn into the absurd. Barbara had listened, watching through different CCTV cameras she could hack on the fly and her own carefully set array of surveillance equipment. She’d listened to the shift of skin against the internal mics with each blow, hearing the voices barking commands in stereo. She didn’t much mind Cobblepot, but his henchmen were always more than just a little obscenely surreal. Tonight had been no different as she watched Steph clock the stocky man in the tuxedo tails and Dick…flew.

He was always distracting in a way that nearly caused her to force herself to ignore completely. She had a job to do. She had people to protect and he was a constant blur of distraction and beauty. He was the most present person she had ever met in her life. He felt joy with his whole body and slumped spectacularly into his moods. He was touchy and he was kind. He had that brilliant genuine smile and silky black hair that she knew the texture of without having to see the way the wind would just lift it lovingly even when it had gone sweaty and wild after a fight. He split her focus and that was unacceptable.

She made sure Steph got home. She checked in with Tim. She laughed with Dinah. Helena answered her call with the same non plussed tone of voice as always. Bruce was… Bruce. Dick picked up on the first ring and she could see the way he exhaled a smile and stretched an arm up to grip the door frame without even checking her monitors.

Her space was tidy in a way she understood and only had three takeout containers on display under the large array. The keyboards were set neatly and well dusted, the glow limning her pale skin and reflecting off her glasses as she caught herself smiling through her hello.

“Did you see the way the one guy blubbered?” Dick asked. She glanced over, watching him hang for a moment before landing quietly, the scratch of his ear muffled through the reciever.

“I did. You rolled your eyes so hard I could see it on the security cam feed from the electronics shop across the street. Classy Dick.” She caught the brake on her wheel, pushing it down to release and rolled back. Her shoulders were tight, neck sore, and the constant press of a headache just behind her eyes. She could feel the way her forearms ached, wrists needing to roll, and the way the underwire on her bra was bothering her and trying to stab her in the ribs. Under that? Nothing.

That didn’t mean she didn’t flush when he laughed, low and sultry. It didn’t mean that her chest didn’t pull tight and twist like something had gripped her lungs when he breathed her name. It didn’t mean she was dead. It was Dick. She was Barbara. This is what they did. 

“Which camera?” he asked, glancing around his living room before looking directly at number four and she blinked, like he was there, like he was looking at her that way instead of the small ventilation grate on his ceiling.

“You got it,” she answered, voice gone quiet and slipping into the tone that meant they were alone. She didn’t take these things for granted anymore. When she had been younger- before- she had laughed away the feel of his fingers on her face, the weight of his hand on her thigh. She’d told him he was too young. She had made all the excuses, but now? Now she had the memory of how he’d gripped her and held on. She had the way his cheeks flushed for her and his eyes went wide and wondering as she flew. Sometimes, when he wasn’t paying attention, he still looked at her that way. And then he tripped on the chair.

“Babs,” he said. It wasn’t a question so much as permission and she stopped breathing for a moment, nipples drawn tight as she flushed. She nodded and just like that he was stripping out of his shirt, fluid and graceful- always so fucking graceful. He understood her silence as a permission she couldn’t say aloud.

She pushed the brake back down, rubber wheel divoting under the pressure. She shifted, pushing up on the arms and arching her shoulders to move her weight and leaned back. She watched, hearing the way his breathing went ragged as he stared at the camera. She’d watched him grow into his body. She’d felt the skin of his cheek move from peach fuzz to stubbled. She knew the heat of his mouth and the way his eyes would go hot and startled with want. She remembered the sharp staccato sound her heels would make on the concrete and the way he’d badger her against the wall with hands and pushes of his thighs until they were tucked close as cards and laughing through sloppy kisses.

Barbara believed that everyone was just a little bit in love with Dick Grayson. She’d been lucky enough to be loved back. For a little while.

Everything changed with a gunshot and the empty feeling beneath her ribs. It wasn’t numb, just the sensation of weight. It was nothingness that pulled at her. It was nothingness that weighted her down while he soared.

He was stripping out of his pants, hooking out of his socks and tossing it all aside. He was doing this somewhere she wasn’t. Somewhere she could only watch, breathing gone heavy as his ribs flexed and his stomach went taut. She remembered the feel of his palms when he stroked over his own skin, fingers splaying wide over his chest and dipping down. He didn’t bother with strip teases. He didn’t bother with preamble. He was so incredibly straightforward about everything, even this. This secret they shared in digital code across encrypted connections. Barbara was used to being a third party viewer.

“I know you’re watching,” he said then, voice gone low and rough as he shifted his ankles, bracing his stance.

Barbara didn’t answer, just wet her lips and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

She heard the snap of elastic on his briefs when he thumbed them away from his hips and let go. She could make out the dark damp spot on the front of them, see the way he wanted in the hard shadow and sighed.

Dick took it as encouragement and pushed his fingers under the waist, eyes rolling back and head tipping in a long line as his whole body flexed once. She saw the arch of his feet, the way his toes curled slightly, thighs cording. His hips rolled, arm tensing in an unmistakable stroke. He was a showman after all. He moved for her. Short small strokes that paused at the head, rolling his palm against it before fucking into his fingers again. She watched his throat work as he swallowed, She noted the change in the tone of his skin as he flushed. She tracked the way it spread over his chest first and then up his neck to kick high color into his cheeks. He was beautiful like this in a way that she couldn’t explain. She could only stare and for just a moment, when he threw out a hand to brace against the wall, shoulder fluid as he curled slightly over himself and let go. She could only choke back the sound of his name when he moaned. She could only remember just how hot his skin felt under her fingers. He was a wild thing. He was life and Barbara sat and watched.

She didn’t know whether she loved him for this or hated him when he groaned her name and came.

The line would go quiet, just the flicker of his breath and the way the rooms both came crashing back in. She was sitting in front of her monitors, Gotham sprawling out across the panels, but she had only been watching the one. She knew his apartment smelled clean and faintly of oatmeal. That his towels smelled like Cheer detergent and that he always kept Tim’s favorite grape soda in the fridge. But now, here, with his come cooling on his knuckles and his ribs pulling with each breath he was alone. She was alone.

“Ba-” It was a plea and she cut him off.

“Goodnight, Dick,” she said softly, closing the connection and closing her eyes.


End file.
